


Birds in a Snare

by merelydovely, Sanguinifex (Eros_Scribens)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Tentacles, The Paris Catacombs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelydovely/pseuds/merelydovely, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eros_Scribens/pseuds/Sanguinifex
Summary: Éponine and Cosette each plan to waltz into the sewers beneath Paris, complete their respective missions, and get out. But as Victor Hugo would tell you atgreatlength, nothing about the Parisian sewers is ever that simple.Fic commissioned to fill theSUPERHEROES/VILLAINS promptforLes Mis Women/WLW Week2017.





	Birds in a Snare

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to tumblr's [@les-amis-de-nsfw](https://les-amis-de-nsfw.tumblr.com) for giving me the chance to write femslash for once! If you, too, want me to write something specific or prioritize something I was already planning to do, find my contact info [here](https://sanguinifex2.tumblr.com)!

“You won’t get away this time, Osprey.” The Lark’s voice rang out loudly off the catacombs’ stone walls.

“Oh, but don’t you know ospreys eat larks for dinner?” It was the best response ‘Osprey’ could manage, in the face of the vision of justice that stood before her. Such beauty existed, and had not yet realized what it could do or have if turned to selfish ends. Instead, ‘The Lark’—no, ‘Cosette,’ for each knew who the other really was—wasted the flower of her youth fighting crime and taking nothing for herself.

Osprey—no, Eponine—could not understand it. Those who do not take have everything taken from them. So they had both learned, she had thought, at that wretched foster home. Eponine had learned to curry favor and fatten egos, and had taken every reward she could get for it; Cosette, disliked from the first, had never tried to change anything for herself, doing as she was told and asking for nothing. Then Cosette had been adopted, and she must have finally learned that lesson, to please an old man so, yet here she was, once more sweeping up for an entire city that gave her nothing in return.

Eponine had been a ‘real’ child, playing henchman for the ‘mother.’ It had been natural to work for the Thenardier’s larger business—they had run the foster home as a money-laundering operation. That it groomed children to be henchmen for a national crime syndicate was merely a bonus. ‘Alumni’ became recruiters, easing younger friends into crime with pocket money or candy or other small comforts.

Eponine played these roles gladly. Yet, confronted by the almost inhuman vision of righteous beauty now trying to steal her prize out of her hands (and donate it to a museum, not traffic it and use the money to bring more drugs into Paris!), she almost regretted her path. A pity, what she was about to do.

For Eponine had been warned about the dangers of this part of the catacombs. Had Cosette come a moment later, the threat would have been temporarily neutralized by a repellant spray, and the Lark would have defeated the Osprey, plucked up the relic, and been on her way. But Cosette had arrived when she had, and now what Eponine had first perceived as danger would become her own salvation.

A short tussle; Cosette won, would have won even if Eponine had not let her win, with that superhuman strength. Eponine denied that she wished Cosette’s hands had been on her longer, even if just to deliver more painful blows. From the floor, ‘defeated,’ Eponine watched as Cosette strode towards the altar on which the relic lay, oblivious to the danger of the short stretch in between.

Then, what seemed as a living vine grabbed her, and she cried out. Even her super-strength was useless against such a foe. Above this catacomb was a stretch of the Paris sewer, and it leaked, sending its toxins down through the earth, mutating what lived between there and here. So it had mutated what once had been an earthworm or a slug, turning it into a great beast with many fleshy limbs and a strange affinity for human—or superhuman—prey.

As the monster savaged her foe, Eponine leapt into action, throwing off her mostly-false guise of hurt. Climbing the walls of the catacomb like a spider, she escaped the monster’s reach by inches, grabbing the relic and racing back the way she came. From there it was but a moment’s work to make her exit, and barely a quarter hour more until she reached the sun’s light.

It would have been. For, at the hall’s archway, Eponine paused, even as Orpheus, and looked back. She glimpsed her Eurydice, and was transfixed by the sight.

Cosette was held immobile by the tentacles of the mutant creature. Already it had undone most of her clothing, and now one of its limbs rubbed over the thin layer of her panties. In a less lewd situation, Eponine would have laughed at her for such panties: full-cut white cotton, the only concession to vanity being a band of white lace at the waist. The very innocence—almost prudishness—of those panties made them seem all the more scandalous, now, soaked through and transparent with the monster’s slime and, from the sounds, Cosette’s own arousal.

Even as Cosette was bound by the tentacles, Eponine was bound, rooted in place, by those sounds, by the tableau before her. She watched as the monster rubbed slimy tentacles over Cosette’s breasts, over every inch of her body, pressing itself against her lips and then into her mouth. The tentacle insistently nosing at her panties finally tore them, diving deep and slickly into her cunt, as Cosette screamed at the intrusion. It did not seem to be a scream of pain.

Cosette kept crying out, louder and louder, as one tentacle fucked her and another slid up and down her clitoris. Eponine could not tear her eyes away. Her task and the relic were forgotten. Then the pitch changed and Cosette thrashed hard against her fleshy bonds in obvious climax, and Eponine’s knees almost buckled with arousal.

The tentacles did not stop their assault. Cosette began to wail with overstimulation, imploring them to slow themselves. Eponine shook herself from a fog of lust as she realized what was happening. It was one thing to trick your opponent into a tentacle monster’s embrace as self-preservation, or to watch as she enjoyed it, but to leave her helpless to be raped, to witness but walk away…somehow Eponine could not do that. Years of hard lessons screamed at her to save herself, yet within the Osprey was a songbird’s heart, and for once, without even thinking about it, she resolved to perform a selfless act. Leaving her pack on the floor, she raced toward the monster, spray-can in hand, darting between the tentacles to spray the repellant on the body of the beast itself.

The spray did nothing.

Horror-stricken, Eponine realized that either some hero had foiled her—perhaps even Cosette herself!—or that she had been betrayed by a Thenardier. For what offence, she did not know, but she knew she must have deserved this end, as more tentacles gathered her up and immobilized her alongside Cosette. As the tentacles began to strip off her clothes, she felt naked, not so much in body as in soul.

The tentacles had a much harder time removing her tight, tactical thieves’ clothing than they had with the Lark’s costume—Cosette had worn an actual dress, grey and brown printed feathers, and tactical shoes made to look dainty. Being a registered hero, she had no need to avoid being seen or leaving traces. The tentacles had disrobed her almost instantly. Meanwhile, they struggled with the buttons and zippers of Eponine’s black stretch jeans and leather jacket. But all was undone at last, and Eponine felt a slime-covered tentacle caress her folds as no human lover had ever done.

The slime tingled, and left pleasure in its wake. That explained how the prude Cosette had succumbed so easily, thought Eponine as heat bloomed within her, making her earlier arousal at seeing Cosette’s ravishment seem like nothing. In truth, though, Cosette had welcomed the rare excuse to take pleasure. A hero must be pure, a hero must be above common things; but now, overpowered so completely that she could not resist, it was no shame to submit and respond to the tentacles’ caresses, since she could do no otherwise. So Cosette submitted, thrusting back against the tentacle that impaled her, wishing her hands were free so she could reach down and shove her fingers in alongside it. She had been overstimulated for a few moments, but then her arousal had caught up again, almost before Eponine’s futile attempt to ‘rescue’ her.

Then, the tentacle inside her widened and changed shape, hitting exactly the places she wanted, and becoming even more slippery as it pumped out more of that arousing slime. Could it read her thoughts? It was responding to what she wanted. Curious, Cosette imagined a thin tentacle trailing the curve of her ear, and then several seconds later, one did.

Meanwhile, Eponine shuddered through her first climax, as a tentacle ‘fingered’ her expertly, slick with slime and yet grippy enough to expertly slide the clit hood over its head, pressing on both sides in a V, even as she might do herself. Only this was without any effort on her part, while also filling her cunt so deeply it was almost unbearable—and all she had to do was thrust into that wonderful pressure; no need to worry about her hand cramping up. Now if only the tentacles could vibrate, that would be perfect…and then they did, barely even buzzing against her skin but sending extra sensation deep into her core. Eponine screamed as she came again, and this time she felt herself squirting, felt it mingle with the strange lubricant the creature produced. Beside her, Cosette moaned with renewed force; turning her head, Eponine saw that the tentacles had realized they should vibrate for her, too.

Cosette! Still a vision of righteous justice, even in half a tattered dress, hair mussed and dripping sweat, muscles flexing as she fucked herself on those tentacles. Justice subdued by nature, submitting to its force; justice submitting to nature, even as the law passes a lighter sentence on crimes committed in extremity. Eponine saw her, and desired, the criminal craving goodness even as she knew that that goodness was itself flawed, as the law is flawed by those who legislate it. The tentacles read her desire, and turned Cosette and Eponine towards each other, bringing them skin to skin—and without thinking, Eponine kissed Cosette.

It lasted a long moment, and then they broke apart, realizing what they had done. The avatar of justice had kissed a criminal; a criminal had kissed a hero of the law. And then as one they realized that it did not matter. They were being ravished by a tentacle monster, and any indiscretions could be so excused. And if they still felt for each other later? Well, that would be later. For now they kissed once more, pressing against each other as close as they could, still held and being fucked by the tentacle monster. Together, still kissing, tongues twining, they came for a third time, clenching around the invading tentacles.

And then, as if that number had magically sated it, the monster set them down. It retreated into the crack in the wall whence it came. Eponine lay stunned on the floor; Cosette, with her strength, recovered first. She unzipped Eponine’s abandoned pack, removing the artifact and holding it up.

“I will return this to the good people of Paris, then,” she said. She also took Eponine’s spare jacket—her own clothing was in tatters, after all, and this was technically Eponine’s fault. She would give it back later.

Eponine was still too dazed to try to stop her.

Hours later, Cosette was unlocking the door to her apartment, when someone came up behind her. It was Eponine.

“Perhaps it is just the lingering effects of the tentacle…thing,” said Eponine, “but that kiss was no lie. I am done with the Thenardiers; they set me up to fail, today. I know I can make it right with the law, and join the heroes’ league, but can I make it right with you? Will you have me?”

Cosette was, unsurprisingly, taken aback. Still, it was not her first tangle with the Osprey, and she had to admit, the chemistry was there. Had they not been on opposing sides of the law, had she not so much pressure to seem above human banalities, she would have asked Eponine out long before this. It might not work out, in the future, but that was for the future. For now…

“Yes,” said Cosette. “Please, come in.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's actually harder to limit yourself to 2k, after a while. And no, brain, you like memes but you are not allowed to title this "Two Girls, One Tentacle Monster" just don't.


End file.
